That Don’t Impress Me Much : Part 50

  • Post category:Writing

Wordcount: 364 words
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Summary: The aftermath of the storms is not at all fun, but life goes on.

NOTE: This is the first draft of a story, so it will most likely contain plot holes, retcons, and other inconsistencies. I’ll come back and fix things once the story (or arc) is complete!

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Cavalry Has Arrived

The reinforcements from Pine Reach arrived two days later. They’d been on the road since the first runner had alerted them to the storm, but had gotten caught in the aftermath of both storms. They had dead and injured as well so instead of swooping in with a brilliant rescue, they ended up joining the ranks of the refugees.

Thankfully some of the wagons and supplies had survived and they were able to move inland towards Pine Reach.

They ran into other refugees along the way. Towns and villages between the sea and Oak Grove had been hardest hit, but it looked like the city had been the only one in the direct path of the storm.

Omen continued to insist that the storms were attacks and not just acts of nature, but there was no proof that it was true. There was no invading army, no other attacks. After a few weeks, they had resettled around Pine Ridge and things were starting to get back, if not to normal, then to a predictable routine.

Aaron and Petty both made it through the storm although May’s uncle had a new limp and the bakery he’d focused his life around was gone. It did not seem to have put a damper on his humor however, it was as dry and biting as always and he was in the kitchens working as soon as he could find a counter and flour to work with.

Aaron and Lucky had been separated during the storm, but only for a few hours. Lucky was one of the few foxhawks who had been picked up by the winds but that had been able to ride the winds out of the storm.

Most of the foxhawks had survived, but the second storm took out a lot of the wounded and the dying. The humans had been harder hit, those that had survived were fighting off infections and the diseases that ran rampant in that poor hygiene of the march and the camps. They had more dead to bury than they had living to tend to now and the process of digging the mass graves left them muddy and bloody and tired.


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Martha Bechtel

My name is Martha Bechtel and I write fantasy and science fiction stories, paint small model horses silly colors, cast resin and plaster magnets, code random code (and Wordpress plugins)... Come on in and join in the fun!

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